


saturnalia

by Hoodoo



Series: Orcish Inamorato [3]
Category: Orcs - Fandom, Original Work, exophilia - Fandom, teratophila - Fandom
Genre: Blow Jobs, Cunnilingus, Explicit Language, Explicit Sexual Content, F/F, F/M, Face-Sitting, Fae & Fairies, Fauns & Satyrs, Fucking, Lots of come, Lust, M/M, Monster Boyfriend, Multiple Partners, Nod to Skyrim, Nymphs & Dryads, Orgy, Outdoor Sex, Penis In Vagina Sex, Pixies, Púca | Pooka, Shameless Smut, Size Difference, Sweet/Hot, Worldbuilding, hulder, no jealousy, revelry - Freeform, spring festival
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-03-12
Updated: 2019-03-16
Packaged: 2019-11-16 02:54:08
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 5,503
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18086090
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Hoodoo/pseuds/Hoodoo
Summary: While traveling cross-country, you and your Orc partner indulge in some adult fun in the open air.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> "golgarza" = "cherished" in Orsimer

The nearest town of any real size was just over two day’s travel from your cabin. There were closer smaller villages, but going to a place with more people, more merchants, meant a better price for furs and more selection of supplies for the coming year. 

There was a road too, from one village to the town, but it took wilderness travel to even get there. As you tromped through the undergrowth, you and Grar debated whether or not to walk the road once you’d gotten to it. It would be easier to navigate, he conceded, but unless a caravan could be found and they agreed to allow you to travel with them, bandits were a threat. Bandits were a threat anyway, but larger groups meant more protection. 

Grar held your protection in the highest regard. It was the reason he carried his mace strapped to his waist instead of his back, where the weight would be easier to bear. At his side gave him quicker access, and although you were both laden with everything you meant to sell, he requested you keep your bow quickly available too. 

The spring weather was pleasant throughout the day, even hot, and the nights were chilly. Under a lashed together, temporary lean-to for protection from the elements the first night, you probably would have been cozy enough in your bedroll with Grar’s warm bulk spooned around you, but it was nice to have a small fire for a warm meal. You knew it was a luxury he didn’t do when he took his hunting trips unless the weather was particularly bad, but something he allowed for you. 

You were tired from the travel today and knew you should sleep for the continuing journey in the morning, but as the embers died and the night became dark around you, the two of you talked about what supplies you needed. You wanted seeds for a garden. He wanted to upgrade some weapons, including better fletching for your arrows. You wanted a few goats, so there would be fresh milk and the ability to make cheese; it could be sold in the closer villages and you thought it wouldn’t be too difficult to excavate a small cave near your cabin to store the wheels of cheese--

Grar chuckled a little, shaking you both, and remarked drily he wasn’t a goatherd. His Clan already considered him a bit of an outsider by choosing the life of a hunter and not living within the fortified walls of their stronghold; what would they think of him settling further into a farmer’s lifestyle?

“And what do they think of me?” you asked. 

He draped his arm over you to keep you close. “They accept you. They know it is difficult for any woman to live with me, so they respect that you are not Orsimer but choose to do so.”

His jokes were rare, especially turned towards himself, so you clucked your tongue and laughed. 

“We’ll talk more about the possibility of goats later.”

You agreed it was a lower priority, then finally settled to sleep.

The next morning, although it would make getting to your destination more difficult, it was finally decided not to walk the road. It meant another night in the wilderness instead of with a group of other travelers, but it didn’t surprise you that it was Grar’s preference.

What did surprise you mid-afternoon the next day was the incredible beauty of the area you were walking through. 

Paces behind Grar, you stopped to take it in. 

“Wait--wait!” you called after him. 

Grar paused and turned back. “Yes, my golzarga?”

“Look at this place!” you told him, throwing your hands out to indicate the small meadow you were in.

The land was flat here. Ringed by trees, this weed- and wildflower-choked heath was an oasis. Swallows flitted by on sharpened wings, drawn by the insects the two of you disturbed as you walked, occasionally trilling musically to each other. Bees moved purposefully from flower to flower, droning a dull background noise. Other insects like unseen crickets filled the air with a sharper sound. Even walking through the waist-high grasses surrounded you with a swishing whisper.

The sun was high in the cloudless sky, beating down on you. It was hot, but not unbearable.

“It’s so peaceful here,” you said, spinning in a circle to take it all in. 

Grar grunted.

Since he didn’t say that you should keep moving, you wandered off to explore a little more. You found a flat rock just ahead and sank down onto it. It was warm from the sun. You could imagine laying here, nude, basking in the warmth of the day. In a moment, your husband walked to your side, and shielding your eyes too look up at him, your thoughts took a lewd turn.

“It is too early to stop,” he said.

You held a hand up to him. “I didn’t say anything about stopping. What if we just rested here for a bit?”

Orcs weren’t typically adept at reading human facial expressions, but Grar had learned what yours specifically were, and raised a brow at the suggestion he saw there.

“Here? In this field?”

You bit your lower lip through a smile and nodded impishly. 

Grar took in the surroundings again. You knew what was going through his head. If anyone stumbled across the two of you here and caught you being intimate, there was the possibility that what they saw could be mistaken for something vile. Not everyone was accepting of Orc and human relations. But it was private here. You’d seen no other indications of people. 

You also knew he was thinking that dallying for a carnal tryst would also add hours to the journey . . . that was true, but from your seated position, you grabbed his hand and gave it a tug. 

Without replying verbally, he shrugged out of the pack he’d strapped to his shoulders. 

You squealed with delight and in record time, shimmied out of all your packs and bags too. You were naked before he was, so you assisted him shucking his clothing too. You left everything in a disorganized pile to the side of the rock.

Grar lay down beside you.

“This rock is hot!”

“It feels good,” you disagreed, kissing his chest and using your fingernails to scratch the skin on his shoulders lightly. 

_“That_ feels good,” he corrected. “A little harder?”

With a laugh, you complied, digging your nails in to the point it would be unpleasant for a human but good for an Orc. You also took a chunk of skin between your teeth, which made him groan. Between you, his cock filled. 

Feeling it press against your belly, you took him in hand despite the slightly awkward position. You didn’t know what suddenly made you need him so much, but you wriggled until he took the hint and lifted himself up so you could be underneath him. Spreading your legs widely, you guided him to exactly where he fit best inside you. 

Holding himself up but looking down at what your hand was doing at your groins, Grar said, 

“So quickly? Are you sure? I don’t want to hurt you, golzarga--”

“Please--” you whined in response, lifting your hips so the head of his cock was in the perfect position. Stopping for a moment, you brought your hand to your mouth and licked it. Quickly you transferred the wet to his cock, twisting your hand around it until he groaned again, before slipping it back to your entrance.

Once more you lifted your hips, and slickly, with only a bit of resistance, his cock slipped into your pussy. 

You gave a long moan as he filled you. 

Grar moved deliberately slowly; he hadn’t been lying when he said he didn’t want to hurt you. With little foreplay, he knew from experience his size could be painful for you, but whether it was just being in a beautiful environment, or whether you simply couldn’t get enough of him, you reached down to grasp his waist to hurry him along.

In only a moment he was buried fully inside you. The slight burn in your cunt melted to undulating pleasure; it was exquisite. 

Above you, Grar paused, his eyes clenched shut. You knew bliss was rolling through him as well, and you laughed as you shifted your hands from his waist to the side of his head to tug him closer so you could kiss the underside of his jaw. The warmth of the rock at your back, the weight of Grar atop you--you’d never felt so blessed, so alive, so full. With easy movements, your husband rocked in and out of you. You couldn’t fathom a more perfect moment, and you laughed again through your gasps and moans.

Someone nearby twittered a laugh as well. 

Instead of being startled, instead of pulling up and away from you, Grar lifted his head languidly. He must be feeling the same way you were: that what you were doing was perfectly natural and proper in this field. 

“We have an audience,” he told you unnecessarily.

_tbc . . ._


	2. Chapter 2

That wasn’t something you didn’t know. But interestingly, you weren’t spooked or embarrassed either. Although he stopped moving, you felt secure and safe with Grar. Twisting your head, you saw small, fluttering beings that you first mistook for large insects.

“Pixies,” Grar said, before the word came to you. 

A flock of them hovered near the two of you, darting out of sight over Grar’s broad back and reappearing on the other side of him. They seemed curious, and when you lifted your hand up, one alit on your palm and examined your fingers. It stood about as tall as your second digit. Its wings were iridescent in the sunlight, and even when you brought your hand down to see it slightly better and it was nude, you couldn’t tell its gender.

The tiny creature looked at you, then quizzically at Grar, still positioned over you. Then it grabbed your first finger and mimed humping it.

Its action was so surprising it took you a second to process it, then you burst into peals of laughter. Grar laughed too, his deep voice startling the flock still hovering around the two of you, but the pixie in your hand didn’t stop thrusting its miniscule hips against your finger. 

Once the flock was used to the booming laughter coming from your husband, they flitted closer again. They took more interest in the two of you, and because of the interruption, Grar pulled out of you and lay on the rock beside you. It was still warm and you were still aroused, but you didn’t feel exposed or cheated. The pixie on your hand gave up its futile efforts against your finger and flew up to join the rest of its group. 

Some of them clasped each other and went through the motions of sex. A few gathered in groups of more than two, becoming a mass of flesh that you couldn’t quite determine how they managed to stay afloat. The ones that didn’t, that landed on you and your husband, continued to examine the two of you, taking great interest in your more intimate areas. They were too light to be felt on the skin of your chest and belly, but you wondered if you’d be more receptive in your more sensitive areas. 

Grar chuckled again. “A pixie orgy. I wouldn’t have thought--”

Something moved at the periphery of your vision. You grasped your husband’s large hand. 

“Those aren’t pixies,” you whispered.

Although still exposed in this open field, you still didn’t feel a need to cover yourself. Or even close your legs, to be honest. It still felt natural and normal to stay where you were as a crowd of other beings came closer. 

The fauns were the first to get close enough to touch you. Their inquisitiveness didn’t bother you, and surprisingly, neither did the first tentative strokes they gave to your skin. They also leaned in close to sniff you. Their short beards tickled you, which amused them, and soon your body was stroked and nuzzled until you wiggled with laughter.

A sharp sound from Grar pulled your attention away from them for a moment.

Your husband wasn’t angry or jealous as you would have expected. The fauns did not pay him any attention, but several willowy nymphs had. Their long fingers danced over him. The subtle green of their fingertips, the color of new twigs, made an interesting contrast to the color of his skin. As you watched, one of them grasped his cock and gave it an upward pull, eliciting the same surprised but not unwelcome sound that had caught your ear. 

A heavier hand gripped your lower leg and you looked up to find a satyr standing near you. One of the fauns had bumped his head between your legs, following the scent of your pussy. His horns were rough on the softer skin of your inner thighs and you jumped a little, dislodging him. Immediately the satyr scrambled into his place between you knees, leering down at you. 

You wanted to see what the nymphs were doing to Grar. Not out of jealousy--besides continued arousal you only felt tolerant and loose and indulgent; you only wanted to watch your husband enjoy what the nymphs were doing to him, that was making him gasp.

But before you could take any vicarious pleasure from watching your husband and the forest spirits, the satyr between your legs slipped his fingers through the folds of your pussy, demanding your attention back to him. The satyr didn’t look up at you, however, his focus was between your legs. After the initial touch, a slim, sharp-nailed finger found its way inside you. 

You moaned lightly. The satyr glanced up at you and withdrew his hand. It went to his cock--impressive for his stature but not as large as Grar’s. You wondered briefly if other women would be intimidated by it, but your thought was interrupted by the creature shifting position enough to line himself with your entrance, and pushing himself forward. 

His cock didn’t stretch you like your husband’s, but it still felt divine. You hadn’t realized how continually desperate you’d wanted to be filled until you were again, and cried out in pleasure. 

Like the pixies--who still flitted around if they weren’t involved in their own bawdy activities--the fauns still clustered around you were startled at first by the noise you made. As the satyr began fucking you at a pace you rarely engaged in with Grar, however, you couldn’t control the continued moans you created The fauns grew accustomed to it, and bold again. They continued to fondle you with their hands and now nuzzled you with their mouths. You discovered their mouths had no upper teeth, like goats, so they couldn’t bite hard. They nipped your hands and belly and nipples, making them stiffen and you to cry out again as sparks of pleasure shot through you. Caught in a mass of them, with the larger satyr still working furiously between your legs, you let bliss wash over you.

From the sounds beside you, Grar was also lost in pleasure. You turned your head and were able to see that the nymphs were still surrounding him. There was too much activity around you to see exactly what they were doing, but it was obviously centered at his groin and with several of their heads bobbing up and down in, you could guess they were taking turns licking and sucking his cock. 

The satyr gave an abrupt, strong jerk. Unexpectedly, he lifted your hips; you weren’t expecting him to be strong enough to do that. But he did, and with an odd, strangled bleat, he held you tightly and tensed. In a moment, he released you and stepped away, and the additional wetness you felt dripping from you indicated he’d climaxed. 

A faun--the same one who got close to your pussy before?--slipped into the spent satyr’s place and gave you an inquisitive lick. His small tongue ignited nerve endings throughout your pussy and you cried out again.

The faun flicked his ears and licked you again, then followed that with an exploratory nibble at your clit. You almost folded in the middle with the explosion of pleasure at that. 

As much as you would have liked it repeated, the faun jumped up into the position the satyr had been in and shoved his cock into you. It was small, of course, but he pumped away even more furiously at you than his larger cousin had, and it felt good. 

Before he could finish, however, another satyr appeared. If his fur hadn’t been more auburn, you would have guessed him to be the same who had fucked you before. He took the faun between your thighs by the scruff of the neck and, ignoring the open-mouthed cry of protest, lifted him up and away, flinging him off you to take his place. 

With no preliminaries, he slipped himself into you. The second satyr’s cock was just as good as the first. 

The little faun, you were able to see, didn’t hold a grudge. He rejoined the group at your sides, although now the a few of the fauns split off to fondle and fuck each other. 

While being pounded, you were able to look over and see more of what was happening to your husband. He’d continued to groan and gasp, and you watched the green-skinned nymphs take turns straddling him, then pulling off, only to replaced by a sister, over and over again. Between each nymph, you could see his cock was shiny and slick. It took each of them a moment to sink down onto him; the expressions on their faces were of slightly pained pleasure. You knew that feeling well; it took you some time to get used to the size of his cock.

The chain they’d made was obviously pleasurable torture to him. He wanted fucked, you could tell. He wanted more than they were giving him. Yes, he loved the push into a pussy, but they pulled themselves off after only a second and there was a brief lapse of sensation before the next climbed atop him. It was teasing and drawn-out, and you could see his hands clench into fists as it continued. 

Grar threw his head back too, and through the minute movements telegraphed through your body by the satyr still between your legs, you saw a new being saunter up to your husband. She was pretty: lithe, long-haired, with shapely curves. She paused by his head, looking down his body at the nymphs still giggling and taking turns on his cock. A cow’s tail swished lazily behind her, and with no further ado and seemingly no worry about his tusks, she widened her legs and straddled his face.

You watched the muscles in your husband’s neck flex, and you almost kicked away the satyr and the pleasure he was building between your legs to go to Grar, but in the next moment his large hands went up and encircled the spirit’s thighs to hold her in place. Her back arched and her face blossomed in an expression of bliss. Whatever Grar was doing with his tongue and mouth to her pussy, both of them enjoyed it. 

Turning your attention back to the satyr, he thrust forward heavily and came inside you too. Like his brother, he stepped away. The fauns were preoccupied with themselves, mostly, either fucking or masturbating. A few pixies were still not participating in activity and alit on your belly. They leaned over to examine you, and you discovered you could just barely feel them touch you or lower their head to lap at the wet dripping from you. They were a little annoying, like flies, and you shooed them away. 

Hiking yourself up onto an elbow, you weren’t surprised to see a large congregation of creatures surrounding the rock. Some you could name: it appeared to be mostly fauns, nymphs, and satyrs, but you also glimpsed a feathered harpy or two, and an ugly woman who cried out in a melodious voice as a satyr fucked her; she had to be a siren. Almost all were engaged in some type of sexual congress. The sounds of pleasure--wet noises of mouths licking or cocks penetrating, panting, groans--filled the small meadow. The lascivious, slutty feeling hadn’t left you, but you were glad to rest for a moment. Your pussy ached a little from the use it had seen so far. 

Grar still had his mouth on the cow-tailed woman’s pussy. She laughed and mewled, and stretched her body over his, laying torso to torso with him while keeping his head locked between her thighs. That didn’t make the nymphs happy, at first, but she tickled their clits as they sank onto his cock, and that made them squeal in delight.

Whatever your husband was doing was good, but apparently not enough. The woman extracted herself off him and crawled down his body. Grar’s lower face was wet. He wiped it off with his hand, but cupped the woman’s pussy as she made her way to his groin. 

She dislodged the still teasing nymphs, to their displeasure, but they were either immediately embraced by satyrs and fauns, or turned to each other. The other spirit’s cocks must have been a better fit, because they didn’t pause or seem overwhelmed as they were filled. 

Grar held his breath as the woman sat up and guided his cock into her, facing away from him. It was slow going, but soon she was seated completely on him, his cock deep inside her pussy. She leaned forward and placed her hands on his thighs to support herself. Her tail twitched over his stomach, but she didn’t thrust. She simply stayed still atop him.

Even without movement, it must have been good, because Grar groaned and stayed still too. It was interesting to see him begin to fray at the seams from seemingly very little stimulation; it excited you to watch your husband become overwhelmed with pleasure, and your hand dropped to your pussy to finger yourself out of vicarious need. 

A faint sound caught your ear, even as you watched the Orc and spirit on the rock nearby. It sounded like hoof beats, like a horse walking in shallow water. It was out of place in this sunny meadow, and annoyed, you dragged your attention away from the two beside you.

_tbc . . ._


	3. Chapter 3

A dark shape picked its way through the crowd of occupied spirits. Even in the sunlight, it was difficult for you to see exactly what it was: it seemed to be horse, no, a goat, no, a hare--by the time it made it to your side it was upright, slender, and human shaped, although no man sported the ears of a hare but also the large sharpened horns of a goat. His face was long, reminiscent of a horse, and everything about him was dark. 

You didn’t need the whispers from the creatures around you to recognize a púca.

He put a hand on your knee as he stepped authoritatively between your legs. His erection bobbed against his thin stomach. It too was deep in color, like your husband’s, but didn’t have the gold piercing for decoration. You should be frightened, a far corner of your brain advised: a púca wasn’t necessarily as benevolent or innocuous as the other beings that surrounded you.

But you were still in the throes of deep arousal, and your legs fell open for him too.

He accepted your offering and eased his cock into you. It didn’t rival Grar’s in girth, but it was longer, tapering from tip to a healthy bulge near the base. It filled you in a different way than you’d had by any of your lovers today; you arched your back to give him more access and the púca drove himself into you.

The sensation of length with a widening at the end made you cry out. The púca also lowered his head to take a nipple into his mouth. Once again you learned he had no upper teeth in the front and took hold of one horn to keep him in place while his hips thrust against you.

This time you came before he did. It seemed like every muscle tightened in your core and waves of pleasure made you unable to utter a sound because your throat tightened too. The púca fucked you through your orgasm.

As the final contractions began to settle, your hand was taken. 

You looked over to find Grar watching you. His facial expression was a mixture of arousal--his eyes were dark and his lips were wet--and determination. You could see the tenseness in his jaw.

“I don’t want to finish in her,” he told you between gritted teeth, lifting his chin to indicate the cow-tailed woman still atop his cock. You could see that now at least she was moving her hips in small, deliberate circles. “I want to come in you.”

That confession inflamed you more than anything of this afternoon.

You extracted yourself from the púca. A scowl marred its face but you didn’t care about offending it. Grar lifted the woman off him--not an easy task; he actually allowed her to slip back down onto his cock with a groan as he half-heartedly bucked her off, but once his intention was set she and the púca took their pleasure from one another, the púca behind her while she was on all fours in the grass. You didn’t watch them long, because Grar picked you up with ease and set you in the place so recently vacated at his groin.

Your legs spread widely to accommodate his thick waist, you held his cock steady and settled down onto it. He threw his head back as your pussy surrounded him completely, to his pubic bone, with no resistance. You felt slick and full and laughed just as you had earlier, when it was just the two of you in this meadow.

Grar’s chest heaved and his large hands first gripped your thighs, then your waist. You rocked experimentally on him, barely any movement at all, and hummed your pleasure. 

He licked his lips and told you, “I’m not going to last long . . . fuck me hard, golgarza--please, _fuck me--”_

You didn’t need any encouragement. Unlike the nymphs, unlike the other forest spirit, you were well accustomed to the Orc’s girth. It filled you both with pleasure as you lifted yourself up and lowered yourself back onto him, impaling yourself on his cock, squeezing your pussy around him as you descended just to hear the hitch in his throat at the tightness. You did as he asked and as you wanted: you leaned forward with your hands on his chest and fucked him hard and fast. Your throat hurt from the sounds erupting from you that you couldn’t control.

Grar’s hands tightened on your waist, pinching you. You ignored the pain and continued, knowing that he was close, not wanting to break the mounting pleasure he was experiencing. You could handle some bruising.

With a roar and a bridging of his core that almost dislodged you, Grar came. He held you immobile on him and it was almost enough to make you climax again too. Before you could lose yourself in pleasure again, however, his grip loosened and he relaxed under you.

You rested on his chest for a bit, hearing his heartbeat under your ear gradually return to normal. Grar rubbed his chin on your head, and you kissed him, right where your ear had been. 

Gradually you lifted yourself off him. As always, there was a gush of liquid unstoppered by his cock leaving you. You maneuvered and lay beside him again. A faun--you still didn’t know if it was the same one as before--wriggled his way back between your legs and lapped up the wetness painted down your thighs. Your pussy felt swollen, hot, and well used under his cool tongue. His tender caresses sent spikes of pleasure shooting through you again, and you moaned as he suckled at your clit. 

You came with a cry that ended almost in a sob, and although he continued to nip and lick at your most sensitive spot, it soon became aching instead of pleasurable and you pushed the faun away.

As you lay gasping for air you noticed Grar supporting himself on an elbow, looking down on you.

“I’m going to learn to do that to you,” he said. 

“Wh-what?” you asked, then cleared your throat to repeat, “What? Use your mouth?”

He nodded, although you watched him explore one of his tusks with his tongue and knew he was thinking about how he would be able to do it without injury to you. “I want you to come on my mouth, just like you did right then. Just like I did to the hulder, earlier.”

That must have been the cow-tailed woman, you surmised. When you picked your head up to see her again, she was walking away. The púca stood, unashamedly before you, his cock dripping residual ejaculate. He eyed the two of you on the rock for a moment, before he turned as well. His dark form slipped easily into the twilight and he was lost from sight quickly.

Twilight?

The sun was low in the sky, already dipping behind the treeline. The rest of the crowd that had surrounded you was melting away too. Even the pixies darted away. Soon the only evidence left of any of them was the crushed grasses where they’d cavorted and the ache in your pussy. 

“How long have we been here?” you asked Grar in confusion. You ran a hand through your hair and felt pixie-knots.

“Too long,” he grunted, hoisting himself up and searching for the pile of clothing and packs you’d dumped beside the rock. Pushing himself up, he huffed something under his breath. 

“What is it?”

“Here. Put your hand here,” he replied, instead of answering. 

You sat up and he guided your hand to where his had been, along the edge of the rock you’d been on. You felt something in the stone that ws too regular, too deliberate, to be natural. 

“Fey marks,” Grar explained. “This is a favored place to them. I didn’t think about the exact date. It must be a minor fey festival--a Changing Season celebration or something.”

He tossed you your clothing. Even as you pulled it back on and he was doing the same, you asked, 

“A minor festival? How do you know?”

He gave you a lopsided grin. “Because they let us go. If the true Seelie Court was here, we’d have been used by them until the Unseelie Court arrived at nightfall, and then we’d be used again. We wouldn’t have lost just an afternoon, but maybe years.”

The thought made you cold.

Grar noticed. “Don’t worry, golgarza,” he reassured you. “We had a good time, didn’t we? They only wanted to us to celebrate with them. They’d have been scared off or become violent if we carried iron weapons, so it was good they decided to join us . . .”

His voice trailed off, so you filled in the rest of the sentence.

“For fucking?” you laughed. 

“Yes. For fucking,” your Orc husband laughed too. The he sobered and said, “You’re not going to be dissatisfied with me now, are you? I saw how you enjoyed those satyrs, and that púca’s dick--it seemed to please you.”

“Are you going to be upset that you don’t have a group of nymphs sharing your cock?” you teased in return. 

Grar chuckled. “No. They’re too delicate. That hulder, though . . .”

Taking mock offense, you slapped him lightly on the chest. His chuckled deepened. 

“I don’t think I could get used to the tail,” he amended.

You slapped him again, while you smiled. He returned it, then told you,

“We shouldn’t stay here. Let’s find another spot to camp for the night, and we’ll be back on our way in the morning.”

Gathering the rest of your gear, the two of you left the meadow. It was darker now, but the fey must have left a lingering blessing of luck, because not only did you find a suitable campsite quickly, your interactions in the town went well too. Grar received high prices for his furs, and was able to haggle reasonable prices for the things he wanted. He even consented to you purchasing two pregnant doe goats to start your herd, and driving them back to your cabin went smoothly. 

Thereafter you left small offerings of mead and oatcakes for the fey, to keep in their good graces.

_fin._


End file.
